


like the holding of hands, like the breaking of glass

by bipolaryangxiaolong (rosesandcinnamon)



Category: RWBY
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, vaguely canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22238149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesandcinnamon/pseuds/bipolaryangxiaolong
Summary: An airship is landing nearby; Yang takes her hand and smiles. It’s a sweet contradiction to the dark and snowy city streets, the creatures they’ve been fighting, to everything they’ve faced. Blake feels her chest tighten with the gratitude.“Youtouch me and suddenly I feel a little less war torn. I’m not sure what peace is supposed to feel like but I think it may feel a lot like you”
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 11
Kudos: 102





	like the holding of hands, like the breaking of glass

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this fic for over a year, when I was up until 4am writing based on the note “Don't know context just know I need bloody desperate kisses.” I didn’t finish it until very recently.  
> Let’s say this is canon-adjacent: shit goes down in Atlas, team RWBY and friends do their hero thing, Blake and Yang are separated in the fray, and have already discussed their feelings for each other. Title from [ Wasteland, Baby!](https://youtu.be/N4rKN_qW5DU) because of course it is. 
> 
> I want to note that this isn't really a reflection of their emotional states as I see it right now in canon, because the bulk of it was written during the Rough Times TM of volume six. I wanted to share it anyway.

Blake sees golden curls and broad shoulders and big hips and her heart aches in relief. Despite exhaustion seeping into her bones, she picks up the pace, going to her as fast as she can. Yang's name falls out of her lips with everything she's ever felt, love and joy and longing, terror and dread and fear, emotions she doesn’t even have words for. Yang turns at the sound, instincts driving her back into a strong stance, fists raised, until she realizes it's just Blake coming at her, and by then, Blake doesn't even know what she's doing, all she knows is she has to be as close to Yang as physically possible.

Gambol Shroud’s sheath and sword fall to the ground; Ember Celica’s intricate mechanism collapses into its bracelet form. Yang steadies herself, Yang catches her, puts one arm underneath her thighs and one arm around her waist and suddenly they're kissing, Blake's got her face in her hands, clutching at her cheeks, her jaw, the base of her skull, fingers fluttering in urgency, desperate to ensure that she's okay, she's alright. Yang clutches her as tightly as possible, almost to the point of discomfort yet Blake can't find it in herself to care. She faintly notices that the arm around her waist is the metal one, all sleek panels and complex wiring and her heart falls through her chest and she's reminded of the sins lying upon her shoulders, the guilt running through her veins. And she realizes she's crying.

Yang kisses her frantically one more time before drawing back, gasping for air she's not sure she needs, voice an embarrassingly vulnerable whimper. “Don't leave - don't leave me, please, Blake-” and Blake sees Yang's own tears.

“No, never, sorry, so so sorry, baby-” and Blake cradles her face, presses kisses to her forehead and nose and cheeks and everywhere she can reach, unbothered by the salt she picks up until she kisses Yang again, and is reminded of their shared sorrow.

Yang is her strength, always, and the truth of that slams into Blake’s heart as they kiss and weep and revel in each other's survival. But strength only lasts so long, and Blake remembers when Yang shifts, squeezing her close for a moment.

“I need to let you down, sweetheart, I'm-”

Blake cuts her off before she can even begin the _s_ word, adjusting so Yang can set her down. “Yes, yes, you're okay,” she breathes, somehow aching and glowing that Yang lets her go so carefully, lowers her down despite her weight to be certain Blake's feet are on the ground, sets her there and doesn't let go until they've both adjusted to the change. They're more accustomed to this, Blake tilting up, Yang tilting down; the dynamic is comforting, safe, reassuring. Yang brushes her lips against hers for what feels like one last time, intending to be gentle and fleeting, but Blake wraps her arms around her neck and draws her in close again, somehow ashamed of her selfishness while also unabashedly needy. Yang sighs and Blake remembers how tactile Yang is, how maybe she shouldn't even be ashamed, maybe Yang is as grateful for this as she is.

“I love you,” Blake says as soon as they part. “I love you and I'm so sorry,” she says, a fresh wave of tears welling up.

“I love you, I love you,” Yang breathes in return, brushing tears off of her cheeks, careful to keep her metal hand by her side until Blake takes it, takes the permanent reminder of her flaws and her guilt and Yang's goddamn stupid bravery, puts it to her cheek and holds it there, wants to pour her heart out to Yang and give her everything she is and ask if it's enough for everything she's done.

Ruby calls for them, a high note of panic in her voice. It breaks their focus on each other. They turn to see her and Weiss and the rest of their group. Everyone seems alright, or at least in one piece. That might be all they can ask for. An airship is landing nearby; Yang takes her hand and smiles. It’s a sweet contradiction to the dark and snowy city streets, the creatures they’ve been fighting, to everything they’ve faced. Blake feels her chest tighten with the gratitude.

In the airship, she tucks herself into the space at Yang’s side, her arm around her shoulders. She’s a Huntress and she knows the cruelties of the world better than most. Nowhere is ever really safe. Even so, this intimacy and warmth of being close to Yang has begun to chip away at that idea. She’s not sure if these tiny glimpses of peace is all they’ll ever have, but with her head on Yang’s chest, she’s not sure if she cares how much they have. Somehow just this is enough.

There’s no debrief when they return to the academy. No one would be listening if there had been. In the elevator, Blake and Yang’s hands are clasped, their shoulders pressed together. Ruby is leaning on Yang’s free side, Weiss’s hand in hers. There are a few heavy sighs and the comforting affection that follows, before they get back to their dorm, but no one speaks.

Even being apart for the length of time it takes to shower and dress feels like too much. Yet finally, Yang comes into their shared room, towel drying her curls and dressed in a soft shirt and shorts. At even just the sight of her, alive and well, even as battered and exhausted as she is, the tight anxiety in her chest begins to unravel and Blake can breathe again.

She offers her hand to Yang. It’s the silent way to say _I know we technically have separate beds but we both want you in mine_. There’s no way Yang isn’t going to squeeze into Blake’s bunk on the twin size mattress, even if it means Blake is lying on top of her and crushing her organs. Yang smiles; it’s her silent way of acknowledging and agreeing. She comes over and settles on the edge of the bed. She has a habit of just _looking_ at Blake. Blake’s never going to get used to it, the way Yang likes to stare. It’s not objectifying, not disgusting like a lot of people look at her. It’s intense but gentle, bordering on worshipful, the way she looks but doesn’t touch.

“Come here,” Blake murmurs, reaching out to touch her, brushing her knee before pulling at her hand. “Watch your head.” Yang nods, shifts to fit herself in the space Blake offers as she moves, pressing her shoulder to the wall. As they settle together, Blake absently reflects on how, at any other moment, with anyone else, this closeness would feel like entrapment, but here, with her, it feels like safety. In the right place, it could feel like home. She hasn’t had a sense of home in so long.

“Where did you just go?” Yang’s voice is soft as she places a gentle hand on Blake’s cheek, bringing her attention to neither the past nor the future, but to the present, to where she is warm, secure, and loved.

“Nowhere, baby, I’m here,” Blake replies, using the same quiet tone, pressing her cheek into Yang’s palm. Yang hums quietly before leaning close to kiss her. This kiss is nothing like the intensity of _oh thank God you’re alive_ kisses. This is gratitude, relief, adoration, this is _you’re here and I’m here and that is all I care about_ , this is _you are my world, I’d do anything for you._

They part, and Blake sighs; Yang’s thumb briefly rubs against her skin. Even if she's safe, tucked between the wall and Yang, she needs her closer. She curls a hand around Yang's arm, tugging gently.

“I'm heavy,” Yang whines quietly, protesting the way Blake is trying to pull her on top of her lean frame.

“Shh, shh, come here,” Blake whispers, shifting her legs apart to let Yang set her hips and the majority of her weight on the mattress between them, to let her rest her head on her chest. “Just want you close to me,” she breathes, setting her hand in the soft, clean waves of Yang’s hair. Yang acquiesces, twisting to lie flat, conscious of the pressure put on Blake's torso. She lays an absent hand on her hip, closes her eyes, relaxes without thinking too hard about it.

Together, like this, she can't think of anything but love. How Blake is worth everything they've been through and everything more they have to face. She'll do it all for this. For the sound of Blake's heart beating, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, the closeness and warmth and safety of existing together. It's not as if it was an easy achievement. Inevitable, yes. Yang's quietly convinced that her soul was made to match Blake’s; their eyes reflect each other’s Auras and their hearts beat the same rhythm. They were always meant to happen.

It’s just that they had to go through so much to get here. Sometimes, the gravity of it hits Yang and it’s all she can think about and all she can see is a montage of everything that’s happened, everything they’ve been through to get here, dripping red and black and sorrow. Yang breathes deeply, in and out, Blake placing her other hand on her back in response.

“Are you okay?” she whispers, knowing it could be nothing while still needing to make sure she’s alright.

“I love you,” she answers in the same hushed tone. The comfort of existing so closely, in a physical sense as well as how intimately Blake understands her, pays attention to her, wants the best for her, it’s all the comfort Yang needs.

“I know,” Blake says. She traces patterns over her spine and shoulders in a soothing rhythm. “I love you too.”

There’s more unsaid, and though unsaid, it’s deeply felt. There’s more to their story. There’s always more. With their bodies pressed together, safe and loved, it doesn’t matter. There’s only this, love and affection and dedication, the two of them together.


End file.
